The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 18

Despite Mallory's predictions, the first weekend in December came and went without Dr. Clark begging her for anything. Not even a handjob. And, moreover, there was no sign he was even sweating it. If she wasn't so sexually frustrated, she'd have just been pissed off and perhaps a little bit hurt.

Of course, appearances are not always truths. Underneath his placid surface, Greg was roiling. Putting the sexual genie back in the bottle had proven a far harder challenge than he initially expected. It wasn't just that the young blonde made him damn near physically ache every time she came over to watch the kids, although, that certainly was part of it. Even when she wasn't around, he could feel...undiluted horniness in his veins. It made him almost panicky sometimes, how bad he wanted sex like the kinds he had grown accustomed to having with Mal. He tried to recreate the experiences with Gina but couldn't. She wasn't Mallory and he knew he couldn't go as far as he wanted. So instead, he stalked about, doing odd jobs around the house, sublimating his want for things that he already knew his wife had no interest in fulfilling.

It was into this situation that Mallory decided to strut in and force the issue. Gina and Greg were heading to a friend's birthday party and Mallory was going to watch the kids for the evening. She arrived early, just because, she claimed. Slipping out of her coat in front of the lady of the house, Mallory revealed she was dressed to the nines in a short, black, spaghetti strap dress.

"That's...unusual babysitting attire," Gina observed as Mallory sashayed around the living room as if she owned it.

"Yeah, sorry. Thought I'd have a chance to run back to the apartment to change but then thought I wouldn't. Turns out I'm early but...what can you do?"

"Well, feel free to go steal something comfortable of mine. The kids are asleep upstairs, you can take your time."

"I think I'll do just that."

Without realizing she had invited a predator into the room where her husband was still getting dressed, Gina whistled tunelessly to herself and began to load the dishwasher

With a dramatic flourish, Mal swung open the master bedroom door and strode in. Greg was standing in his boxers just pulling on a blue dress shirt.

She held up one finger to her lips and then shouted downstairs, "Looks like he's in the bathroom, Gina! Thanks!"

"Okay, take whatever you need!" floated up the reply.

Mallory closed the door quickly immediately after that.

"What are you—" the doctor began.

The blonde pushed her finger to his lips now, interrupting.

"Now, if you keep quiet," the babysitter said, turning back to him, "we can finally spend some time together. It's been forever!"

"Well, you know, time can...make things awkward," he hemmed, "Lead to uncomfortable situations."

"Or great ones!"

With that comment, she pulled her dress up overhead. Underneath, she had not a stitch on. Despite his best intentions, the family man gawked. His eyes settled on the small blue stone navel piercing twinkling against her taut tummy before he shook himself out of a lust stupor.

"Are you crazy?!" Greg balked, attempting to move around her towards the door.

Mallory continued to stand before him, naked, arm on hip. "I can't put new clothes on without getting the olds ones off, Doc. That's just common sense. Besides, you love my body; I don't know what you're complaining about."

"Mallory," he sighed, exasperated, "We don't do this anymore."

"Right. We're on break. But break's end. What better way to check if this one has than to show you what you could be running your hands over right now." As if to stress her point, she let her hands slowly slide up her body from her hips to cup her breasts.

"Not a break. Over," he replied, stressing each letter.

"Welllllllll, maybe over, maybe not, remember?"

"Yes, I remember, but...look whatever the case, I am definitely not ending the break now, okay?"

"Of course that's okay, Doc. Don't mind me at all. I'm just going to turn on some music and get some clothes on. Eventually."

She snagged the remote off the bed and turned the TV to a satellite music channel. As the thick, heavy beat came over the speakers, Mallory began to dance. By herself, but drawing closer and closer to Greg, eyes fixed on his. He looked away in embarrassment, trying to evade her. Before long, he ran out of real estate, backing into the bed. Mallory shoved him onto it with a firm push and sprung up into a straddle over him. As the doctor struggled to get his wits in order, she began to slowly, firmly grind down against him.

More than a little tempted, Greg struggled with his conscience. However, his annoyance with her presumptuousness, with her recklessness carried the day. Wordlessl, the doctor pushed her off him and stormed out of the bedroom.

She sighed heavily at his back, confused. She felt him go from somewhat stiff to raging hard. He wanted her, he must, she reasoned. So why didn't he just take her?

In the kitchen, Gina was still tidying up when Greg came fuming in, zipping up his pants, trying to angle himself so as to best conceal his still firm cock. He spied his wife, looking very pretty in a charcoal sweater and jeans, and got an idea. He spun and dipped her, as she giggled in shock.

"My goodness!"

"Sorry, something just came over me," he shrugged.

As she smiled and turned to return to her task, he interrupted her again. Grasping her waist firmly, he lifted and placed her on the counter. Before she could voice any objection, he kissed her hard, hands clasping her face. Reluctance dissipated rapidly and she opened her mouth to kiss her husband back with equal fervor.

With frantic, avaricious hands, Greg pushed his wife's sweater above her bra covered breasts. While he sought the clasp, Gina yanked the sweater off the rest of the way, letting it drop to the floor. His hands stroked her warm, heavy breasts with unsubtle need. She moaned into his mouth, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it off his shoulders.

Once both were topless, Gina clutched Greg to her chest, groaning in pleasure, "Love the feel of your skin against mine."

He kissed her without reply. He didn't want "love" right now, he just wanted gratification. Carnal delight. He wasn't in the mood for sweet nothings.

Her hands found his belt first, undoing it, then the button and zipper beneath. She pushed the unclasped fabric aside, flattening her hand against the rigid member hidden within.

"So warm," she murmured, as Greg kissed her neck, then down her chest. He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of her pants, returning the favor, as he enclosed her nipple with his warm, wet mouth. She shifted her hips rapidly back and forth, aiding him in pulling her jeans off her hips, over her, and finally down to the ground. As cool air caused her skin to goose pimpled, Gina experienced a moment of clarity.

"Wait," she cried out, "the kids..."

"Still asleep," her husband replied, kissing back up to her neck. He pushed her panties aside, exposing her before her next objection.

Still as his fingers spread her lips apart and gently grazed her clit, Gina managed to gasp out a warning, "Mallory's in our room."

"Exactly! She'll be there for awhile I'm sure. Bopping around and trying on your stuff," he assured her, ripping open the condom package he had somehow grabbed without her noticing. He rolled the prophylactic onto his dick, shuddering at the feeling of the cool latex and his own touch.

"I—" Gina began, still unsure.

Greg cut her off with a thrust of his hips, sliding inside her.

"Oooo, what's gotten into you?" she moaned.

"I just love you. And want you."

"Uhhh," she groaned sharply as her husband began thrusting, "Fine. Just this once though, okay? No more sex in anywhere but the bedroom when other people are here."

Greg ground his teeth and kept quiet. He wanted to demand why 'just this once'? Why couldn't they make love in the kitchen whenever they wanted provided they were reasonably sure their kids were asleep? Who cared? But he held it in check. He should appreciate this one now, he reasoned, not worry about the future or past lack of kitchen sex. She was his wife, love of his life, and making love to her should've been enough, even if it was mostly vanilla bedroom based sex.

As he pulled her close, feeling her breasts spread against his chest, soft and warm, he tried to lose himself in the feel of her. She was undeniably attractive to him and the fact that she had had two kids was not readily apparent the way she had kept herself so fit. Who wouldn't be thrilled to be married to her?

Just as he posed this rhetorical, he opened his eyes and looked into the darkened hall. There, Mallory stood, still naked, watching. Catching his eyes, she languidly licked and sucked her first and second finger until they glistened in the kitchen light that spilled down the hall. She guided them down slowly as if offering him the chance to look away, daring him to do the right thing. It was a dare he was unequal to. As her fingers finally reached her bare slit and disappeared inside her, he couldn't stop staring. She trembled, eyes clasped tightly. Then, an arrogant grin spreading across her face, she let her eyes open sleepily, holding his gaze. Her free hand flew to her bare breasts as her fingers began to pump in and out, in and out. She bit her lip, eyes rolling upward. It was impossible to tell what was turning her on more, the masturbating or the performing.

The doctor felt his anger rise, quick and fiery. He gritted his teeth, breath sputtering between his teeth in a hiss. The fury engulfed him, swallowed him. He began to thrust harder into Gina, aggressively pawing at her chest, without paying a whit of attention to how his wife responded to the increased intensity. His mind spun and whirred. Even as he drove himself harder and faster into his wife, he was disconnected, dissociated.

He was mad at Mallory for her refusal to see his viewpoint, to respect his wishes. It was so damn hard already, why did she have to make it worse? Why couldn't she have left him to his unexamined sex life? Why couldn't she not remind him of what he was missing, even while he was having sex with his wife?! And now? He told her no, he explained himself. He was as much saying no for her feelings as for his life. And still, she taunted him!

He was mad at Gina, even as he grasped how wildly unfair that was. Mad she wasn't into the sex that he was, mad she was unwilling to even try to budge on that years before, leading to the suppression and eventual explosion of those desires in him. And then he was mad all over again to see how sexy and fun she could be while still not being interested in exploring more.

Finally, he was angry at himself. For being weak. For wanting what he wanted and not being able to stop himself from wanting it anymore. For fucking a nineteen year old and still not really regretting it. For having sex with his wife but not being able to stop being envious of where the babysitter's fingers were at that moment.

Mallory only became more brazen and enthusiastic as she saw that anger twist his features, heard the wet slap of skin increasing in speed, letting her know he was going faster and, probably, harder. She returned her fingers to her mouth, now saturated with her lust, and lavished them with attention. Her tongue slithered and slid from tip down to palm before she greedily slurped them into her mouth. She half-wished Gina would hear the noise and turn to see her.

Her cunt felt empty almost immediately so she hustled to finger fuck herself once more. The taste of herself still lingering in her mouth served to further thrill her. She added a third finger and doubled over at the waist, grabbing the wall for support. She looked back up at him, mouth open to gasp, eyes dark with pleasure.

Greg's hands grasped his wife's hips firmly, too firmly. She yipped in shock, but he barely noticed. If he had been pounding into her before, he was now jackhammering. With each thrust into Gina, he became more enraged. Enraged with each pleasurable jolt reminding him he was having sex with Mallory through a surrogate. Enraged he would use his wife like that. Enraged that it wasn't Mallory's pussy.

Mallory dropped completely to her knees without breaking eye contact, the fingers on her free hand, licked nice and wet, began to stimulate her clit. On her knees, three fingers swiftly thrusting in and out of her sex, her other hand flying in circles over her clit, she maintained that stare. "She's not me," she mouthed insolently, before quivering as her orgasm overtook her. Even as her eyes fluttered involuntarily, she continued, fucking herself for his eyes blatantly and defiantly.

Unable to resist, Greg groaned loudly. Mallory heard him and smiled wide. "Cum now. For me. Because of me. Not her," she whispered almost silently, willing him to understand. While no lip reader, the doctor caught the gist. And obeyed. Trying to think of soccer or sewing or anything else couldn't stop it. Even several feet away, not touching him at all, she controlled him. He filled the condom, barely stopping himself from shouting his babysitter's name. As Mallory faded back down the hall, the husband and wife caught their breath, the husband's shame rising, the wife more than a bit confused and sore.

"Wow," Gina exhaled.

"Yeah...." He was feeling worse by the moment.

"That was a little...a little rough."

"Oh...oh jeez, I didn't hurt you or like—"

"No, no. I just... like it softer, you know. I mean, I appreciate how excited you were and all. But...softer next time?"

"Right. Yeah. Sorry. I just got...carried away."

She nodded and walked to the bathroom as he pulled off the yellowish latex sleeve and deposited it in the trash. He felt queasy.

Greg slipped through the party, distant and distracted. His brain returned over and over to his actions, looking for exoneration and finding only guilt, self recrimination, and anger. His focus was a moving target, intense at points, nonexistence at others. He nodded grimly as a recent divorcee decried the legal system, became far too interested in someone he only just met's description of her macramé hobby, and zoned out entirely while the guest of honor told a very funny story about his meet cute of his wife.

Tempted to drink away the feelings, he resisted, fearful how the booze might loosen his tongue and make him susceptible to confessions and revealing comments. Instead, he pounded ice water until he seemed to be using the bathroom every fifteen minutes. The doctor didn't worry about how odd it might've seemed to others, but was rather thankful for the brief respite.

On the drive home, he assured his exhausted wife he had fun as she dozed in the passenger seat. Reluctantly, he agreed to let Gina go to bed and settle things up with Mallory. As his wife disappeared into their bedroom, the babysitter could barely conceal her cat that had swallowed the canary grin.

"Soooooo..." she smirked, drawing out the word.

"How many hours was that?" Greg asked, ignoring her tone and focusing on the matter at hand.

"Five, but take your time Doc. I'm in no rush."

"It's late," he replied, frustration coiled in his voice.

"It IS late," she agreed before pivoting, "Your wife is asleep. I'm wet. These are all interesting facts, aren't they, Dr. Clark?"

"Not interesting at all," he snapped back. His eyes, however, betrayed his level of curiosity. He flitted over her form, wearing his wife's clothes. Tall argyle socks reaching to her knees, pale purple athletic shorts rolled twice at the waist, and a grey sleep tank which hung tantalizingly loose, presenting the possibility of young firm breasts slipping free with every movement she made.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, biting her lip and lightly fingering a thin tank strap.

He sighed, exasperated with her and his own libido in equal measure. Tightening his posture, he pushed back hard against her routine with a brusque tone, "I told you. We're done. And to be clear now, not a break. Done. Over."

"Huh? Really? How does this afternoon fit into that then?" she mused, swishing back and forth on the balls of her feet.

"This afternoon?" he snorted, trying bravado on, "You mean when I made love to my wife? The woman I'm married to and with whom I share two children? Is that what you are referring to when you say 'this afternoon?'"

"Ha," she let loose a thin brittle laugh, "Made love? No, Doc, you fucked her. Or more accurately, you fucked me. You just used her cunt to do it."

He gritted his teeth, "It's time for you to go home."

She ignored him, slipping into a monologue, "I wonder if she felt it; if some small part of her grasped that she was just a blowjob doll substitute for you to play out your fantasies about someone else's pussy. Could she feel that it was me you were really fucking?"

"Good bye Mallory."

She continued, uninterested in his reproach, "I bet she'd love to know she owes her afternoon delight to a teen's naked body that her hubby had been ogling in their master bedroom a minute before. Don't you think she might find it fascinating that the only reason she got some cock was that her husband was trying not to feel guilty about his enjoyment of babysitter cunt?"

"Enough."

"No, no. Not enough. What's enough is this joke you are playing on yourself. You are not too good to fuck me like you want to; not too good to betray your wife again. I know that and I still want you inside me. You don't need to pretend to be decent. I like that you're an adulterer and pervert."

"I doesn't matter what either of—"

"I'm right here, Greg. You think I'm sexy, I know you do. I fuck you like you've always wanted to be fucked and I love every second of it. So stop this pay at being good and start accepting how bad you can be."

"I've got to be—"

"I'm wearing clothes you've seen your wife a thousand times and you can't keep your eyes off me. She puts them on, you yawn. I wear them, I can feel your eyes burning through every stitch of cloth."

"You need to—"

"Come on, Doc, I can see how hard you are from here."

"That is not—"

"I'm wearing your wife's panties too, sir. A pair that I'm sure you haven't seen her in in sometime because they're so, so tiny. And I'm just soaking them right now. So fucking wet."

"This is—"

"Fuck me. I need you so damn bad!"

She began to stalk towards him, pure predator.

"Doctor Clark."

Step

"I'm not your wife."

Step

"I'm young."

Step

"I'm tight."

Step

"I'm smooth," she moaned, running her hand down her flat stomach and briefly under the waistband of her shorts to make it very clear what she meant.

"I'm filthy."

Step

"So stop screwing around and start fucking me."

The doctor accidentally bumped a half full cup of water on the counter, spilling its contents, breaking the tension for a moment. A moment long enough to regain his senses. He grabbed her coat off the nearby chair and tossed it to her.

"Good night Mallory. Go home. I'm going to spoon with my wife in our bed and get some rest. You go home and sleep well in yours, okay?"

With a gentle but undeniable force, he guided her stunned form to the front door and pushed her out onto the front stoop. Before she could say another word, the door slammed, the deadbolt slid into place, and the front light extinguished.